Just One
by DuctTape-n-SafetyPins
Summary: We all wondered what happened after Dean and Cas left Nora's place during Heaven Can't Wait. One Shot.


"Where to, Cas?" Dean asked as he pulled open the door to the Impala.

Cas responded wordlessly, with a crinkled brow and a frown that Dean didn't quite recognize. This wasn't Cas's usual furrowed-foreheaded frown that came with his signature "confused puppy" look. Something in his eyes read differently to Dean. He felt the muscles in his own face crinkle with a silent question as he settled into the seat. Cas's sigh is what clued Dean in, but he decided to stick with questions rather than accusations.

"Cas?" he began, "Where are you sleeping nowadays?"

Castiel looked up at Dean with that same strange expression. What is this look? Shame, maybe?

"Look," Dean continued, his tone growing gruffer, "Are we gonna sit out here all-"

"Take me back to the Gas n' Sip." A moment of sharp silence filled the Impala as Dean's suspicions were confirmed.

"The Gas n' Sip?" Dean asked, ignoring the voice in his head that shouted at him for being so selfish and stupid for leaving his best friend with nowhere to sleep. Cas sighed again with that same distant expression and stared straight ahead, out the windshield. "Are you kidding me, Cas?" He knew he was only angry at himself, but he could hear the bitterness leaking out into his tone. "You've been sleeping at work?"

"It really is not bad," Cas replied in his typical monotone.

Dean twisted the key in the ignition and the Impala rumbled to a start. "Look," he sighed, "I'm not gonna let you spend the night at a gas station. At least not tonight when I'm here to do something about it. Okay?" Cas nodded and they drove silently for an awkward span of time that probably seemed longer than it was.

"Where are you taking me?" Cas asked.

"We are gonna find a cheap motel for the night. And I want you to promise me you'll find yourself someplace soon, okay?"

"My situation is only temporary, Dean. As I'm sure you recall, I was urged away in a hurry."

Dean clenched his jaw, clutched the steering wheel a little tighter, and silently wished he could just tell Cas the reason why. He hated being the bad guy and he hated knowing the betrayal Cas must have felt when Dean forced him to leave. Cas's bitterness was sharp in his chest. "Cas." He pursed his lips. What else could he say? "Cas.. Can we do without the guilt right now?" He swallowed back his words before any more of his own self-hatred could leak out in the form of blind hatefulness. "Let me just do this for you now so I can feel like I'm not the world's crappiest friend. Please."

They pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of a motel with a half-unlit neon sign that buzzed as it blinked. It looked cheap. The vomit-like smell in the parking lot told Dean it probably was. Considering Dean only had enough cash on him to fill his tank if necessary, he did not complain about the vomit smell.

As Cas stepped out of the Impala he asked, "Where do you plan to sleep?"

"We'll go for two beds," Dean replied.

But as the man behind the counter listed the prices of the available rooms, Dean wasn't sure that would be possible.

"Fifty for one night?" Dean asked.

"Is that a problem?" the man's cracked lips sneered.

Dean chuckled a bit as he glanced toward Cas, who was staring aimlessly out the lobby's dirty window. "I uh," Dean began, attempting to turn on the charm, but instead just appearing flustered. "You don't have anything...uh..." He sifted through his wallet again, desperately. "Listen... my friend here doesn't have anywhere else to stay tonight, and I'm just trying to do him a favor. He's in a bit of a rough time. I'd be okay leaving him here but I've got a long drive ahead of me too, and we've got some business to take care of here in town, so..."

"How nice," the greasy man said. "That's fifty for two beds."

Cas spoke to Dean without taking his eyes off the window. "Dean, it's okay. you can take me back to the Gas 'n Sip. I will be fine."

Dean pulled out a wad of spare gas money, leaving five dollars behind in case of emergency. "What will this get us?"

The man stared at the wad of cash, looking incredibly bored. He looked back up at Dean with empty eyes and said, "We got a single for thirty. No bathroom. No TV. Just a bed and a heater."

"I'll take it."

The room was smaller than they'd expected. The man was not exaggerating when he said "just a bed and a heater." The bed, too, was smaller than they'd expected.

"I will sleep on the floor," Cas said from the doorway.

"No," Dean barked. "If I wanted you to sleep on a floor I'd have taken you back to the gas station."

"Why didn't you?"

Again, Cas's words stung Dean on impact. "Do you think I want you to live like that, Cas?" Cas was silent. Dean perched on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "There's... there's a reason you can't stay with us, okay? And it sure as hell isn't because I don't want you there." Even in the dim light of the single, cherub-shaped wall fixture, Dean could see Cas's features soften. "How many times do I gotta tell you you're my friend before you'll believe me? You know how much I need you around, and I know this sucks for you but it ain't sunshine and roses for me either." Dean's voice was gruff again. He found himself wishing again that he could express any kind of affection without tensing up like a retracting cobra.

"I suppose I haven't been introduced to the human custom of banishing friends from your home," Cas bitterly retorted.

Dean knew he couldn't argue without saying too much, and he knew he deserved Cas's anger. He felt his shoulders start to sink. "I promise this is all going to eventually make sense. I don't know what I can tell you now to make you stop hating me but paying for you to have a bed for one night is at least gonna help the both of us sleep tonight."

Cas finally stepped out of the doorway and properly entered the room. He sat on the side of the bed adjacent to Dean and neither of them looked at the other.

"I don't hate you, Dean."

An enormous weight melted off of Dean's chest and shoulders. They sat in silence for a moment in the windowless closet of a room. Dean picked a segment of the ugly 1970s wallpaper and Cas picked a dusty cobweb in the corner to stare at, and they sat in silence, staring aimlessly. The wall clock's ticking was the only sound.

When the clock read 2:00, Dean said, "It's late." He pulled his shirt over his head by the back of his collar and kicked off his shoes. "I don't know about you but I'm gonna hit the hay."

Cas looked up toward Dean and asked, "Do you mind if I do the same?"

"That's why you're here, man. If you didn't hit the hay I'd call this a waste of good gas money."

"No, I mean, the shirt," Cas stammered. "It's just that I have been wearing it for several days and I prefer to keep it folded at night. To avoid wrinkles."

Dean ignored the blood that seemed to rush to his cheeks. "You, uh, you gotta do what you gotta do," Dean said, for lack of anything else to say. Dean found himself watching as Cas unbuttoned his shirt. The amber glow of the cherub lamp brought out the warmer tones of Cas's complexion. Aesthetically, Dean thought, Cas is not bad to look at. He attempted to shove away the thought, as he always did, but as Castiel's shirt fell from his shoulders Dean couldn't deny the truth to it. He watched the former angel neatly fold his work shirt on the floor and he couldn't help but smile. He smiled because of Cas's unmasked particularity, which was evident in everything he did, from choosing his words to form a meticulously crafted sentence to folding a dirty gas station shirt. He found enjoyment in watching Cas for some reason. He liked the way Cas's hands moved, and how his face furrowed up in that familiar way. He liked knowing that he could recognize familiarity in someone other than his brother or his father. Cas was the one person who was so incredibly familiar to him with whom he didn't share blood. The only other person he had ever known as well as he knows Cas was Bobby, and even then the familiarity was an entirely different feeling. In both cases it was comfort, but an entirely different kind. Bobby provided a sense of security. Cas on the other hand made Dean feel something he couldn't quite pinpoint. The feeling was somewhere between Safe and Content.

"Why are you smiling?" Cas said, as Dean was jolted back into the present moment.

"Because you fold your shirt like a dork."

Castiel's eyes soften and Dean could see the corners of his lips slightly curl. Dean pulled back the odd-smelling sheets and slipped into the bed. Cas began unbuttoning his jeans. The sudden quickening of Dean's heart rate made him ask himself questions he didn't really want the answer to right now, so he said, "Do you have to take your pants off?"

"I prefer to, yes. Sleeping is still very new and uncomfortable to me, and I have discovered sometimes that even if I fall asleep in my pants I waken without them. I take this to mean that I do not sleep well in pants. The same thing happens when I wear socks, I have noticed."

"Alright, skip the life story. But if you kick off your underwear I'm yelling Bad Touch."

"My underwear usually remain in place," Cas said, as his jeans fell to the ground, revealing a white pair of boxer shorts. Dean was relieved they were not tighty-whiteys.

"Cas?" Dean said as Castiel folded his jeans.

"Yes?"

"If you tell anyone we shared a crappy, twin-sized motel bed, I'll kill you."

"Okay, Dean." Castiel smiled. He slid beneath the covers.

There was breathing and there was ticking but otherwise there was silence. But there was also comfort. There was comfort in knowing that there was someone close to him, breathing and living. There was comfort in the shared body heat that the blanket trapped in. There was comfort in the occasional yawn or shifting movement in Cas's side of the bed. And somehow Dean felt okay. Perhaps even happy.

When he felt Cas turn over to face his back, Dean's blood rushed to various places again.

"Dean?" Cas's voice creaked, breaking the silence.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" Dean said, his back still facing Cas.

"No," Cas replied, "But neither are you."

"Got me there," Dean smiled. "What do you want?"

"Why didn't Nora want to go on a date with me?"

Dean was slightly taken off guard. He turned over and was taken off guard again by the distance between Cas's face and his own. Castiel's eyes were only inches from his own. His nose. His lips...

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well, it confuses me. If Nora thinks I am smart and responsible, I surely possess the qualities of a suitable mate for her. Why then did she go on an unsuccessful bowling date with another man?"

"Are you jealous?" Dean asked.

"No. Just confused. If I have the qualities she seems to look for in a mate, why was I not chosen?"

"Well," Dean said, unprepared for this counseling session, "Sometimes it's not about choosing a mate. People aren't penguins. We don't just choose a mate and stick with them. Maybe she wants to play the field a bit before she settles down."

"Is this why you prefer to sleep with women who are not worthy to be your mate?" Cas asked with honest sincerity.

Dean was becoming flustered, "I thought this was about Nora?"

"It is."

"Well, were you hoping for things to go well? Were you hoping to get some action?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," Cas repeated, "I don't think Nora is my mate."

"So you're playing the field too, then?"

"I may as well I guess," Cas said. "I was excited to discover the ways of dating. But I have plenty of time to go on dates. Until my mate discovers me."

"Where did this idea of a 'mate' come from?"

"I'm not sure. There are things I understand better now in human form. I understand why they all feel so lonely. I understand why blood travels in strange directions and why our heart rates change. I understand the strange sickness in the stomach area when one human finds another human desirable."

"You're starting to sound like a fruity poetry book."

"That's something else I understand now I think," Cas said. "I understand why people write poetry."

"Do you always get like this late at night?"

"I don't think so. But I don't think I discovered many of these things until tonight."

At that moment Dean understood what Castiel meant. He'd never let himself admit it, but he knew exactly why Cas was suddenly a poet, because he felt his own poetry inside him. Just like he knew why he liked to watch Cas fold his shirt. But these were all secret thoughts that only belonged to him and no one else. He knew that for some reason, Cas made him feel more alive than he had probably ever felt in his life and now he knew that the blood-flow-and-heart-rate poetry Cas spoke of was not only in his own head anymore.

And his lips quivered as he saw Castiel's lips. Inches from his own. Inches. And he felt Cas's warm breath on his face, and he knew with every inch of him that he wanted to taste it. Andas his eyes locked with Cas's eyes as they laid on this twin-sized cheap motel bed, Dean knew that in a matter of minutes he could have the bed squeaking below him and Cas sweating beneath him, and Cas's deep brown hair between his fingertips. He knew that his hands were only inches away from feeling every sweet spot of Cas's warm body. And he knew that tonight he could potentially see all the things that Cas kept private and he knew that for some crazy reason, he wanted it. He wanted to share this bed with Cas so he wouldn't feel so alone. He wanted the temptation he knew Cas would give him. he wanted that room with two beds to be slightly out of his price range. But even though his lips were moist and eager, and even though his hands were thirsty and ready, and even though there was so much blood throbbing in that big, swollen gland that made a pointed mound beneath the sheets, he knew he could never do it.

Never.

Not ever.

. . .

Just one touch.

Dean's hand quivered as he reached toward Cas's face, and he ran his fingers just barely through Cas's tousled hair. He let his hand travel through that thick, brown silk and down to the back of Castiel's neck. He had touched a lot of hair and many other necks but none had ever lit him on fire the way this touch did. Cas was smiling. Not showing teeth, but simply letting the corners of his mouth curl softly and contently. Cas let his eyes roll back just slightly before they fell closed.

And there were Castiel's lips. Inches from his. His "one touch" left his fingers itching for more. He wanted everything he knew he couldn't have, and he could tell by the way Cas's eyes fell closed that he wanted it too. But deep in the pits of their stomachs they both knew that they could not have any more than this. This moment. This quick and fleeting moment. Because what would Sam think? What would Kevin say? What would this mean about them? If we leave it at this, Dean though, it means nothing, and we can continue with our lives like nothing happened. Because nothing did happen, right? It was just one touch.

Just one.

Dean's body prickled with a thousand tiny needles. He inched his own face closer to Castiel's until he could taste his breath. Just once, Dean thought. And we never have to talk about it. With one stealthy motion, Dean's pink lips met Castiel's pale ones. He didn't pucker or even move. He simply touched his lips gently to this other pair of warm, inviting lips that lit him up like a match. He let it linger, soft and still. As he pulled away, he couldn't help but smile like an idiot, and even though Cas tried his hardest to play "asleep," his own big, dumb grin gave him away. Lucky for both of them, neither man opened his eyes. As sleep washed over Dean, he secretly wished that in the morning he would find Cas's sleeping body wrapped tightly around his, and they could call it an accident. But for now they both just slept without questions asked or questions answered.

It was best to leave it as it was.

Just one touch.


End file.
